


Spoiled

by Rooscha



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: M/M, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rooscha/pseuds/Rooscha
Summary: In a rocky post war Cybertron, Jazz and Soundwave take a night to themselves.





	1. The set up

**Author's Note:**

> Not attached to any other fic. Just a little something I’ve had stewing in my head for a while.

In the end, Jazz had insisted. And Soundwave had no choice but to submit to his smaller partner; at least this time. He was not a mech easily subdued nor was he one for submission. However, to have such a treasure in his berth, certain conditions had to be met. And so he would lay on his back this once. 

His berth was tidy, gel padding in place and heated to a pleasantly warm temperature. The air in the room itself was cool, almost cold. Small racing frames could put out almost as much heat as his own much larger frame. The warmth under them would feel good in the beginning, but the whole room would be stuffy and hot by the time they were done. 

Two large carafes of coolant and Energon were waiting on a small table next to the berth, shimmering in the dim lighting. Originally he had only prepped one each, but sharing fuel had a connotation that Jazz may not appreciate this early in their relationship. 

Fingers lightly brushed the air above the toy selection he had procured for this session. Not that he needed them, but it was in his nature to please his lovers. This one in particular he had no intention of leaving wanting in any way. Many were courting the SpecOps commander, but he was best. 

Despite his flirtatious nature, Jazz had proven somewhat difficult to draw into his berth. Or anyone else’s. Tonight he was willing to do whatever the SpecOps commander wanted or needed from him. Every other night he would be in charge. He would drown Jazz in pleasure and make him never want to leave the berth. 

After querying Blaster, it became obvious that Jazz had never berthed a host nor a telepath. The first was confirmed by Blaster, and the second was taken for granted. Any mecha who had made love mind to mind perused the activity endlessly. Looping pleasure within a link was even more pleasurable for all involved. 

His symbiotes were tucked safely away in his chassis, with the exception of Buzzsaw, who was out running errands with Blaster’s bunch. Things had certainly been interesting after the war, but both Hosts were happy that all symbiotes were more or less getting along. Ravage and Steeljaw would probably never get along, but neither would Starscream and...well...anyone. 

Jazz would be here in less than a breem. Soundwave busied himself with pushing the last of Frenzy and Rumble’s game controllers under the console. Normally he would have made the little mechs clean up after themselves, but Jazz’s acceptance of his invitation had been somewhat surprising. They had been courting for a little over a vorn, but with the chaos of creating a new post civil war government, the two were often left wanting for each other’s company. 

A light knock at the door signaled the arrival of the mecha in question. With light pedes, Soundwave approached the door and allowed it to slide open, admitting the lithe frame of the former SpecOps commander. 

“Sounders! My mech, you didn’t need to clean up after the brats just for me. You know I don’t care.” Jazz leveled his gaze on the larger Mech. Despite his words, the crystaline blue visor scanned the room carefully, every inch a SpecOps mecha cataloguing the contents of the room. 

Soundwave smirked behind his mask and allowed Jazz his inspection. It was best if Jazz’s quirks were indulged and he felt safe and secure. Pleasure was the goal this night, and it would be exceedingly difficult for him to overload if he felt even the slightest bit uncomfortable. 

“Jazz would like engeron? Coolant?” Soundwave’s unique cadence flowed over Jazz’s audios, a slight tint of nervousness surfacing in his vocals. 

“I’m good, fueled up before I left my shift.” Jazz felt Soundwave’s optic band land on him before he saw it. 

“Query: took fuel with Prowl?” Soundwave asked, pushing forward and into Jazz’s personal space. Cassette Carriers were renowned for their possessiveness, and Jazz had just poked the proverbial bear.

“Naw, Sounders. I just don’t like ta be underfueled at play time. It’s bad form to expect others to care for you. Though by the looks of it, ya already did a lot of that.”

“Soundwave: always prepared. Thorough.” His big blue hands curled into loose fists as he watched Jazz - his soon to be lover - poke through the side table he had prepared. 

“Most impressive, but mosta these toys look like you just busted em outta the packaging. They are brand spankin new.” Jazz’s visor turned slightly, glinting in the dim light of the room as he looked at Soundwave. 

“Merely prepared for any eventuality, and focused on Jazz’s pleasure.” Soundwave willed his shoulders to relax a little. Formality was his safe place, but it was a little too much to expect to bring it into the berth room. With any luck, he’d be burying his spike inside the mecha within the next few breems. 

“Ah, how sweet o’ ya to prepare for me. But ya should know that I ain’t a hard mecha to please in the berth. I tend to run a little...hot.” Jazz’s hand dropped from the side table to his hip, and trailed slowly down to the top of his thigh. Teasing. Teasing him. Soundwave. Former Decepticon third in command. Communications Officer, first class. Former gladiator. 

Before he even registered he was moving, Soundwave had crossed the room in a few long strides and reached the imp. Jazz laughed even as he was thrown over the larger mech’a shoulder and tossed onto the berth. As his laughter subsided, he lounged back on the berth and heaved a heavy sigh, luxuriating in the soft padding and warmth he found there. 

“Yer our ta spoil me, ain’t ya?” Despite the words, Jazz showed absolutely no signs of moving. Transitioning from full out war to peace was difficult, but especially for those like Jazz who thrived with a certain amount of chaos. The peace would wear on his spark. 

“Soundwave: guilty.” The carrier Mech allowed the finest ounce of humor to color his words, knowing that Jazz would appreciate the humor. They were all guilty of something in this war, and both of the Third in Commands were no different. They both shouldered heavy burdens both during and after the war. 

“Aren’t we all, my Mech?” Jazz intoned, reaching up and pulling on Soundwave’s massive shoulders. 

They slid backwards onto the berth, armor sliding against armor with more of a whisper than a clatter. Hands were everywhere, grasping and teasing. Jazz’s glossa dipping into the fine seams on Soundwave’s helm. The slightest pressure of a talon teasing a dataport. Tendrils of telepathy swirling around their minds, just barely caressing before backing off and disappearing. Jazz’s open moans coupled with the softest sighs from Soundwave.


	2. 2

Cables crossed and hooked, data streams separated and uploading. Soundwave was deeply and secretly amused at the mental gymnastics both of their programming did to ensure that the other was safe. Commander of SpecOps versus Commander of Communication was not a battle either of them wanted. But when both of them ensured each other and themselves that this merge was for pleasure only, the coding settled easily. 

Soundwave hovered close to Jazz, close enough to feel the smaller mech’s ex-vents. With a thought, Soundwave retracted his facemask, kissed Jazz hard and nipped at his lips. Jazz chuckled, responding with a submissive field and pure lust across the connection. Contrary to his field and his connection, Jazz bucked his hips and planted his hands. Next thing he knew, the telepath was flat on his back on the berth with the saboteur purring contentedly on top of his hips.

Charmingly, Jazz was sinking his claws in and out on Soundwave’s stomach while purring ever louder. The pinpricks of pain only made the pleasure streaming across their connection even sweeter. The smaller mech was undulating his hips softly and slowly, teasing the larger mech. Soundwave’s hands rose, wanting to grasp hips and pull the teasing heat down on his panel. 

“No way - we had a deal, big mech. I call the shots tonight. And that starts with the first command. I get to touch you, not the other way around. Hands behind your head, lover. Just sit back and relax tonight. I want to take care of you.” Jazz slid his hands up Soundwave’s wrists, gently guiding them up and behind the larger mech’s helm. Given their size difference, Jazz had to slide up his torso quite a bit. 

The way back to his original position was sensuous and torturous. Soundwave was not a mech accustomed to simply receiving. His entire life had been spent in the service of others, whether it be his cassettes or Megatron. But when Jazz licked around the buttons of his tape deck, he realized it was a good time to reevaluate his life choices. Maybe letting another giving him pleasure wasn’t such a bad thing. 

Jazz smiled when Soudwave hitched a broken moan at the slight press of his glossa into a seam by a button. The mech was quiet in the berth, but it was to be expected when considering his taciturn nature. Jazz had seen the other mech’s face many times in the privacy of their quarters, but seeing the handsome features twist in pleasure and fall open was a sight to be treasured. 

Jazz smiled as he pressed small teasing kisses around the blue spike housing in front of his optics. Through the hardline he sent packets upon packets of pleasure and arousal to the large mech, assaulting him through both physical and mental means. 

The panel snapped back, and a large spike pressurized in moments. Jazz rested his helm against Soundwave’s thigh, and simply took in the spike he was fully expecting to pleasure for the rest of his functioning. 

It was dark blue, with red bio lights running up the length in three stripes. One stripe up the bottom and two on either side. They were slightly distorted due to the raised spiral pattern along its length. Jazz shivered, already imagining the sheer pleasure he would feel when his valve clung to the texture. 

With slow, teasing motions, Jazz gently took the spike into his hand. The spiral made his hands feel almost numb as he rubbed slowly up and down, raising to his knees to take in the expressions his lover was making. His helm was thrown back, a low keening moan nearly vibrating Jazz’s plating. 

When Jazz rose up and swallowed the bright blue spike, Soundwave bucked his torso and yelled incomprehensibly as he watched his own spike’s biolights disappear one by one down his lover’s intake. When Jazz swallowed around his length, the Host collapsed against the berth, completely strutless. 

Jazz chuckled, the vibrations making Soundwave’s ‘problem’ of not spilling prematurely that much worse. It was no way to impress a new lover - spilling down their intake like a newling. Surely Jazz wouldn’t take him as a serious contender for his hand if Soundwave embarrassed himself. Luckily, his smaller lover pulled away and straddled his legs before he could throw himself over the edge into bliss. 

“Jazz: ready to be taken?” Soundwave asked, his hands flexing and unflexing behind his helm. The SpecOps commander merely smiled, before trailing one hand down his chassis, stopping to tease his own closed valve panel for a moment. Soundwave craned his neck to see, and when Jazz was sure his lover could see properly, he opened his panel. Lubricant rushed his claws, pooling around and dripping down Soundwave’s thighs.

“Yeah, I think I’m good to go. Do you want it?” Jazz asked, thrusting his hips towards Soundwave’s spike, just barely brushing his node against the biolights on the underside. 

“Please!” Soudwave keened, and watching the elder and more powerful mech keen in near agony for want of him, Jazz nearly overloaded. 

“This is going to be fast and hard, love. Don’t hold back, I want to feel your transfluid flood me over and over until my tank is full. Maybe one day we’ll make use of that carry tank of mine, what do you think?” 

Soundwave couldn’t answer with words, so he did the only thing he could do in that moment. With a sudden jerk of his knees, Jazz was unseated from his thighs and sprawled face down on his chassis instead. His valve was close enough to the spike to feel the heat, and the lubricants steadily dripped onto his pelvis. With a savage growl, the carrier allowed his aggression to fuel his movements and canted his hips. Spike met valve with a crunch of his abdominal cabling, and Jazz choked on his own moan of relief as he slipped halfway down the spike in one fluid motion. 

When Soundwave drew back, his spike pulled all the way out of Jazz’s valve, leaving both mecha moaning and wanting. When the lovely spike did not find its way into his valve immediately, Jazz lifted his helm off the tape deck and looked questioningly at his lover. The large mech simply stared him down, lips twitching into a self satisfied smirk. 

And just like that, Jazz knew that he’d been beaten at his game. The damn mech had played him for a fool and he had willingly fallen into the trap. 

With a knowing sigh, Jazz sat up and scooted down the berth, slowly sinking back onto the lovely spike. The texture was incredible - every time he sank down the spirals seemed to help suck him down to the base, and then when he lifted it was like his valve lips were at loathe to let the spike pull out. The rhythmic push and pull heightened his charge steadily, and he felt ready to whiteout into the abyss when Soudwave sat up a touch. 

The world whited out. The hot squelching noise of his valve cut off. Soundwave’s small groans and quiet keens fell silent. For a long moment, Jazz wondered if he was passing out. And then, the brush of something he’d never felt before. A butterfly kiss of bliss. For just one single moment, all that existed was the agony of pleasure. It was incredible. It was frightening. 

~Jazz, loved by Soundwave.~ The statement seemed to begin in his mind. His mind. Jazz’s mind. But he knew at the core of his being that it had to be Soundwave’s thought.

Soundwave was in his mind. 

The thought was not nearly as unsettling as it should have been. This mech had earned his unconditional trust. Jazz had come to adore the calm, level nature of the mecha beneath him. The mech was...loved by him.

And just like that, the bliss was back. It started at the base of his helm, and moved down his spinal strut, infiltrating his very spark. On some level, he was aware that his valve was overloading, rippling and squeezing the spike held within. 

But what he really felt, experienced, was Soundwave’s overload. As soon as the valve tightened around his spike, the transfluid erupted from the base of his spike. The bliss of erupting into a loved one overtook all of his senses. The pulsing heat of transfluid pumping into the scorching hot valve, the squeezing heat of his own valve in the middle of overload, and the pure ecstasy of knowing that one day he could impregnate the lithe mecha above him. 

Experiencing both overloads at once proved too much for the smaller mecha, who fell face first into Soundwave’s tape deck as he rebooted. 

With the object of his affection suitably strutless, Soundwave stretched his arms and gathered the smaller mecha into his arms. He purred softly as his spike slipped from the pliant valve. When Jazz came back online, it would be his turn to be on top. And then they could explore mind to mind love making. Maybe even let his cassettes in on the fun,


End file.
